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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29428155">Have you ever thought maybe...</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_lives/pseuds/nausicaa_lives'>nausicaa_lives</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Domesticity, Fluff, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:29:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29428155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_lives/pseuds/nausicaa_lives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two conversations, one functional relationship, .5 braincells.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann (past), Kent "Parse" Parson/Jeff "Swoops" Troy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Have you ever thought maybe...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/gifts">Maeve_of_Winter</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know Gritty was only introduced in 2018, but I've pretended otherwise for the purposes of this fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">"I think Gritty might not even be a guy in a suit... like I think he might be a real <em>creature.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Kent stares up at Jack's ceiling from his plush carpeted floor. To his left are Jack's feet, solidly on the ground. Jack's sitting on the edge of his bed and has been watching the tape from their game against Halifax for coming up on 40 minutes now.</p><p class="p1">"What?" Jack says after a long pause, as if he's just realized Kent said something. Kent turns on his side to look up at him. Jack's big blue eyes look down and find his. There are big blue circles underneath them.</p><p class="p1">"I said, you know, maybe Gritty is a real creature. Like a forest monster they found and tamed or something." Kent can tell he's falling into his old pattern of talking shit when he's uncomfortable, but he doesn’t have the energy to stop. It used to make Jack smile, make him shake off his worries for long enough to reach out and jostle Kent's shoulder, pull him in—</p><p class="p1">"What? No, what are you talking about. It's a guy dressed up."</p><p class="p1">"Okay, I was just saying, have we ever <em>seen</em> a guy in there?" Jack finally is paying enough attention to the conversation to shake his head, set his jaw in the familiar scowl that lets Kent know he's fucked up.</p><p class="p1">"Is this what you've been thinking about?" Jack says. "This whole time? <em>Crisse</em>, Kenny," Jack shakes his head. Kent would normally find it hot, the French in there, Jack exasperated and intense as ever, directed at <em>him</em>, but now he just feels defensive and gross. His skin feels itchy with the sweat he knows he showered off back at the arena.</p><p class="p1">"No, I haven't, I was just saying—"</p><p class="p1">"Would it kill you to watch tape with me for a while?"</p><p class="p1">"Jesus Christ, we got off the bus an hour ago Jack."</p><p class="p1">"We made mistakes we shouldn't have made, you know this is important for me, the draft is coming up and I can't—" It rankles Kent, that Jack thinks he's some sort of dumb slacking airhead, who can't focus on tape, who can't take the losses hard the way the should. He wants to say that of course he knows, that the draft is important for him too, Jesus, does Jack honestly think he's the only person in the world who has hopes and dreams and worries, sometimes Kent can't fucking stand him. He doesn't say any of that. Above him, Jack has stopped talking. His eyes are squinted closed, full of tension, and his chest is rising and falling faster than it should and his hands are clenching by his sides and Kent's head and heart ache trying to reconcile it all. He gets up and sits beside Jack, pressing the side of his body into the side of Jack's body and breathing slow and loud so Jack's nervous system can hear it and calm down. That's what he thinks happens, anyway, when he does this, it's not like he would know. They don't know what they're doing, either of them, not ever, and Kent wishes for the billionth time that he lived the kind of life where you could just ask. He rubs Jack's back, moving his thumb back and forth over the divot in Jack's shoulderblade, the soft indent of his neck, until Jack disentangles himself, pulling out of Kent's reach as he gets up from the bed.<br/>"I'm gonna go watch tape downstairs," he says.</p><p class="p1">"Okay," Kent says. He tries to meet Jack's eyes, but they seem to be looking straight past him at the wall behind his head. Well, he can take a hint. "I'll just head out," he says, "curfew," even though it's barely 9:30 and Jack of all people knows his curfew isn't until 11. Jack just nods. On his way out, Jack grabs his shoulder, and Kent turns around quickly to face him.</p><p class="p1">"Thanks, Kenny," Jack says, and brushes his lips over Kent's, before he walks out of his own room. Kent can hear him make his way downstairs, and he picks up his jacket and waits for the steps to fade into the distance before he leaves.</p><p class="p2">****</p><p class="p1">"Do you ever think," Jeff says slowly. He's lying in in bed, his hair all splayed around him, and Kent wants to shove his laptop over the side of the bed and move back into the nook between Jeff's arm, extended across the bed like an invitation, and Jeff's chest, just sitting there, broad and built, <em>also</em> like an invitation. But he's put off buying flights for too long, and he doesn't want to make a bad impression on Jeff's parents by coming in at a weird time.</p><p class="p1">"What?" Kent says, remembering Jeff said something just now but too distracted to know what. "I gotta get these flights booked, I don't want to get in at like 1 AM, especially since your mom said she wants to pick us up—"</p><p class="p1">"Babe," Jeff sits up and leans into Kent. He lets out a huge and very loud yawn before continuing, "Babe, you don't need to worry. She already is like, totally primed to love you."</p><p class="p1">"I don't really think that's how that works," Kent says, selecting autofill and typing in his VISA 3-digit security code by heart. "I'm a male hockey player with a bad reputation dating her well-reputationed male hockey player son."</p><p class="p1">"You are a <em>top-notch</em> hockey player who does a lot for the greater Las Vegas community and who handles the invasive questions about his past with much more patience than they deserve. And you are dating her <em>also </em>top-notch hockey player son, who talks about you to her all the time, because he loves you."</p><p class="p1">Despite all the fears clenched up in his chest, Kent feels a warmth spread over him, and he turns his head into Jeff's neck and rubs his cheek there. Jeff is so soft, and strong, and very, very good. "Are you nuzzling me?" he asks, and Kent can hear the smile in his voice.</p><p class="p1">"No," Kent says agains Jeff's warm skin as he nuzzles some more, not trying to hide the smile in his voice either. "That's what I thought," Jeff says, satisfied, and Kent feels the familiar pressure that means Jeff is pressing a kiss into his hair. Finally he turns back to his computer. Oh great, he only has to click submit! That wasn't so hard, was it? He feels very satisfied as he closes his laptop and settles it carefully on his bedside table.</p><p class="p1">"What were you saying before?" he asks.</p><p class="p1">"Oh yeah!" Jeff says excitedly. "Do you ever think that like, Gritty is a real animal? Like, there's no dude inside him, he <em>is </em>the dude?"</p><p class="p1">"Oh my God," Kent says.</p><p class="p1">"What?!" Jeff exclaims, playful and indignant. "I was watching this Philly promo video on twitter and let me tell you, the realism is astounding, to the point where it really makes you wonder."</p><p class="p1">"I think about that all the time," Kent says, even though he hasn't really thought about it in years.</p><p class="p1">"Yeah?" Jeff asks.</p><p class="p1">"Totally," Kent says. "He has a certain authentic energy that just gets you thinking."</p><p class="p1">"That's what I'm saying!" Jeff says, "My theory is that—"</p><p class="p1">"I love you," Kent speaks over him. He wants to hear Jeff's Gritty conspiracy, but he wants to kiss him even more, so he does that first. "I love you a lot." Jeff cocks his head in the way that he does when Kent's doing something that he doesn't quite follow but is on board with nonetheless. With that wide smile and his eyebrows up high, he looks like a dog that doesn't know why it got a treat but isn't too worried about finding out.</p><p class="p1">"Good," he says. "I love you a lot too." Kent kisses him again.</p>
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